To Billy Sunday

You come along... tearing your shirt... yelling
about Jesus.
I want to know... what the hell... you
know about Jesus.

Jesus had a way of talking softly and everybody
except a few bankers and higher-ups among the
con men of Jerusalem liked to have this Jesus
around because he never made any fake passes
and everything he ( Read more... )

I definately have a soft spot for Robin Williams flics...Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam, One Hour Photo, Aladin, Happy Feet, etc. This weekend I was watching Patch Adams, a cheesy and sentimental light comedy about a doctor who attempts to improve the quality of life around him (like I said its cheesy). While watching this there are ( Read more... )

I was looking for a poem that could knock me on my ass, something with meat to it, something I would remember.  This I will not forget

Grandfather Says by Ai

"Sit in my hand."

I'm ten.

I can't see him,

but I hear him breathing

in the dark.

It's after dinner playtime.

We're outside,

hidden by trees and shrubbery.

He calls ( Read more... )

miss rosie

when I watch you

wrapped up like garbage

sitting, surrounded by the smell

of too old potato peels

or

when I watch you

in your old man's shoes

with the little toe cut out

sitting, waiting for your mind

like next week's grocery

I say

when I watch you

you wet brown bag of a woman

who used to be the best looking gal in Georgia

used to be called ( Read more... )

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Sonnet XLIII) by Edna St. Vincent Millay

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply,

And in ( Read more... )

If I've been absent (aside from my computer being broken) its because of Lynda Hull.  I have been lost in her Collected Poems done by Mark Doty. Which everyone needs to get a copy of!  Its out of Greywolf Press but I'd just buy it off of Half.com or something- although totally worth the $15.  So this is one of my favorite right now:

Night Waitress

( Read more... )

Wholly Shit was that the craziest experience of my life!  SO AWESOME!  And I mean really awesome.  I met so many people and learned so much about poetry, the writing community and myself.  Really if you didn't go- You NEED to next year when it is in NYC!

Sooooo On the plane- one of the many planes, that sucked ass- why all the turbulance!!?!?!?
( Read more... )

So I've had a few complaints about my inactivity on Live Journal (this is namely refering to Devon Branca, but saying a few makes it sound better.)  So I've mustered up all I got and I wrote a poem about Matt calling and telling me he burned his couch to the ground.

Long Distance Phone Call

The cliche says: some poeple leave fooprints on your heart ( Read more... )

I’m with my dog reading poetry
in the park

his leash
pressed down by my foot
he won’t go no where
he will whimper
wish he was running
short hybrid legs of a bassett
mixed dog with the rottweiler.
His face scares them, walking the stretch
of the leash, going only so far
to stare back at me
pen furious on the page
could your paws grasp a pencil
I imagine, you ( Read more... )

Always Tears

Nana its our birthday, and Mom’s crying again
I know its my fault, I know that its because there are
four hand knit dolls sitting on my day bed,
each with their painted on smiles
that I won’t ever recollect my first impression of each,
the blue, the red, the orange, the yellow
one made for me every year of our birthday.

I’ll blow out the ( Read more... )